Misfits
by boketto-muffin
Summary: Killua Zoldyck is a Misfit. He has no place in the merciless heart of Hunter Academy, a prestigious college prep school for the rich, the bold, and the brains. Not even a raven-haired athletics major can change that. AU. Dorky!Killua
1. Chagrin

As if there aren't enough High School AU's out there.

Legit Summary That Still Sucks: Killua Zoldyck, our lovely sophomore protag, has recently moved to California. There, he enrolls in the prestigious college-prep Hunter Academy, where each student is labeled a Hunter specific to their major. Those who don't know what they want are called Misfits, and Killua just so happens to be one of them. But what does that even mean? That's what Killua's ready to figure out.

No nen, no famous assassins. Sorry :3 but there will be lots of characters we miss and love - all stuck together in a high school setting. Fun stuff ahead B-)

 **Disclaimer:** hxh not be mine

* * *

 **Chapter One: Chagrin**

 **Chagrin- distress or embarrassment at having failed or been humiliated**

 **( ꂧ᷆ ◞ ˑ̼̬ ◟ ꂧ᷇ )**

My name is Killua Zoldyck, and on September 14 of 2014 at the arcade on Main Street, I ran into what would be the best thing that ever happened to me-though technically, it was my fist that did the running into.

"Ow!"

In my triumphant air fist-pumping after clearing the final level of Greed Island, I'd accidentally rammed my knuckles right into the nose of the kid standing behind me.

I quickly whipped around, hands ready to help if they could. "I'm so sorry, are you al-"

Runny blood dripped onto the floor from the boy's nostrils, making a resounding _plip_ with every drop. He didn't seem to notice though, cuz he was grinning.

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled. "It doesn't really hurt."

I pointed a shaky finger at his face. "You- you're bleeding."

"I am?" He glanced at the floor, which now had a small puddle forming on it. His mouth formed a perfect "O" as the realization dawned on him. "Ah, you're right." He tilted his head back and pinched his nose. "All better, ne?"

Certainly not.

I fished around in my backpack for a package of tissues (summer colds are the _worst_ ) and started to wipe up the mess on the floor, all the while rambling incoherent apologies.

Out of the blue, the boy asked, "Hey, do I know you?"

My eyes slowly traveled up his figure. Knee-high green boots, lot's of smooth, tan skin, and the shortest shorts I'd ever seen on a guy - which happened to be the same awful green as the boots. He also wore a black bro-tank. My vision stopped there. Call me a mouse, but I almost felt scared to look at the guy in the eye.

That didn't matter though, because he stuck his upside-down face directly in front of mine. Like, DIRECTLY in front. Being this close, I was forced to observe his features, from the dimples on his cheeks to the small spray of freckles on his nose. The only thing that alarmed me about his appearance (besides his gravity-defying jet-black hair) were his eyes. Huge and round and hazel. Almost the exact opposite of mine.

"I swear I've seen you before." The boy blinked and tilted his head so that he was looking at me right-side up again. "Have we been on the same sports team?"

I drew my head back, stammering, "N-no, I don't think we have..."

"Soccer? Baseball? Rugby? Anything?"

"No..."

"Hmm." He sat back, placing a finger on his chin. In horror, I noticed that his nose had started oozing again. Then he asked, "What's your name?"

"K- Killua. Oi, your nose-"

"Oh. Never mind." He shrugged apologetically. "Guess I was thinking of someone else." He stuck out his hand, the one that was on his chin and now speckled with blood. "I'm Gon!"

I made no move to shake that bloody hand.

"Uwaah!" Gon finally noticed the dilemma. He threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose again. The whole scene just made me feel even guiltier.

"Again, Gon..." I handed him another tissue. "I'm so sorry about that. I beat the game and I wasn't even looking and- "

"Hahahahaha!" Gon's laugh was so innocent and pure, like a little kid. "Congratulations! Greed Island's really hard, isn't it?"

Something about the fact that I couldn't get my apology across to him irritated me. But at least he wasn't mad. Then it'd just be awkward and I'd never want to show my face here again. Actually, maybe I still didn't.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at it real quick and saw a text from my mom.

 _Killu! Where are you!? It's almost dark! Come home right now! Love,_ _Mommy_

I sighed long and loud. Mom was definitely a piece of work - and crazy paranoid. Sunset wasn't for two more hours!

Gon ogled over my iPhone, which made no sense to me. Sure, I was new here in California, but I didn't live in the ghetto. Surely a smartphone wasn't a rare sight.

"You're cellphone is so cool!" He dug around in his mustard yellow backpack (which went _perfectly_ with his celery green outfit) and pulled out an old flip phone.

I suddenly wanted to hide my luxury, but he didn't seem embarrassed or jealous. Just awed.

A moment of extremely awkward silence passed.

"Listen," My eyes traveled along the tiles on the ground. "That was my mom. I gotta go."

"Oh, okay."

The air in the room seemed thinner. "I'm sorry."

To my surprise, Gon groaned in exasperation. "No more apologies, okay? I'm fine!" He pulled the tissue away. "See?"

All I saw was crimson blood gushing out. I hadn't hit him all that hard, had I?

"Right..." I said.

He replaced the tissue.

"Well... I'm off, I guess."

He called me back before I could start speed-walking away in shame.

"Killua," Gon said. "Can I have your number?"

I raised a brow.

"Maybe we can meet up here again. I come every Sunday, so..."

I wasn't sure what I wanted. I had no friends yet since school didn't start til the next day. But honestly, I'm lone wolf. Friends or no friends, I'm fine. It's not like I had all that many back on Kukuru Mountain.*

I smiled and gave it to him. There wasn't much more to say, so I left him to bleed all over his outdated flip phone.

Once I was outside, I breathed a sigh of relief. The air was so much fresher out here. I looked left, then right before crossing the street on my way home.

 **βακα…_〆(・ｪ・*)**

"Killu, darling~~"

Exactly the greeting I want to hear.

I slip off my beat-up Converse and immediately jam my earbuds into my ears. I turn my iPod to shuffle and Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl"** comes on -

anything to drown out my mom's horrid gushing.

I can see her stroking my hair and see her abnormally bright red lips forming words, but none of it reaches my eardrums, thank heavens. I deal with this constantly. It's one of the perks of being "Mommy's favorite".

She finally leaves, probably off to prepare dinner or something, which means another night of starvation for me. I'll never understand why she doesn't just hire a cook. Maybe it's her pride as a mother.

I pad down the dim hallways of our new home, making my way to my room. We've only lived here in Dentora*** for a couple weeks. Today was the first day I've left this house. Really, it was just practice for tomorrow, so I just searched up the nearest arcade and expected to have a quiet evening roasting all the score boards. You know, before _that_ happened.

Before today, my room was my habitat, which wasn't bad at all. I have a king-size bed, 72 inch flat screen, every video game system ever created within the last couple decades, mini fridge packed full of ChocoRobo-kuns - you get the idea.

We're kind of wealthy.

Scratch that, the Zoldyck's are filthy rich.

I'm not one of those spoiled brats though. Sure, I have my moments, but doesn't everyone? I try to play it down, unlike my older brother, Milluki. I hate it when people know I'm wealthy - I feel like they look at me differently, treat my differently. That's why I felt so uncomfortable when Gon stared at my phone like that.

I flop onto my bed, the force causing me to bounce a bit. There's a dull buzz in my sweatshirt pocket. I pull out my phone.

Speak of the devil.

 _Hi Killua! :D this is Gon :3 I'm so glad I have your number! Text me back_ (｡^‿^｡)

I probably read over the text like 10 times before I even consider replying. But even if I do, what do I say? _"Hi"?_ I break into a nervous sweat before my phone buzzes again.

 _P.S. My nose stopped bleeding!_

I sigh in relief.

 _P.P.S. It's broken though_ (´⊙ω⊙`)

And then I slam my face into a pillow.

 _P.P.P.S. But don't worry! It still doesn't hurt! It'll be back to normal in a few weeks!_ :)

Right, like that makes me feel any better.

 _P.P.P.S. Please don't feel guilty!_ (╥A╥)

I noted just how often he used exclamation points and emojis.

 _P.P.P.P.S. Oops! I used P.P.P.S. twice..._ ๏_๏

At this point, how could I _not_ answer?

 _Yo, Gon_

I felt satisfied with that. Maybe.

 _UWA! KILLUAAAAAAAA! YOU ANSWERED!_

 _It's not like I have anything better to do_

I winced after reading it over. It sounded a lot harsher written out than it had in my head.

 _Do you start school tomorrow?_

 _Yeah_

 _Me too!_ d(*⌒▽⌒*)b _What grade are you in?_

 _10th_

 _ME TOO!_ °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° _WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON ALREADY_

 _Such as...?_

 _Let's see... We're both boys, the same age (?). We like the arcade. We've both beaten Greed Island. Um... Im sure there's more! We just have to find out! (•̀ᴗ•́)و_ _̑_ _̑_

 **ρ(￣ﾍ￣ ﾒ)**

I completely lose track of time tonight. Eventually, Gon tells me his aunt wants him to go to bed, but promises we'll talk tomorrow.

I glance over at the clock; my face contorts into a weird mixture of surprise and confusion. It's only 8:30 at night, yet Gon is going to bed?

The kid is definitely abnormal.

A yawn escapes my lips, and I realize just how tired I am. And as soon as I realize it, exhaustion completely incapacitates me. I manage to plug my phone charger in before practically passing out in my jeans and sweatshirt.

 **(ᴗ˳ᴗ) zzz**

Mom wakes me up bright and early the next morning.

"Killu! You're going to be late on your first day!"

My cerulean eyes crack open to read the green numbers that are way too bright for the early morning. As soon as my brain registers that it's 7:36 a.m., I'm wide awake and scrambling into the bathroom with the uniform mom had laid out for me.

No time to shower - luckily I had before going to the arcade. My hair is a fluffy rat's nest, but when isn't it? I run a comb through it and brush my teeth at the same time. I pull the uniform on in a few seconds, though my fingers fumble over the many buttons on the shirt and blazer. I grab the nearest belt and loop it around my waist, tightening it to the last notch (one of the many kinda tall-very slim guy problems). All that's left is the worst part of my morning ritual - contacts.

Technically, since I use monthlies, I can just sleep with my contacts in. But I had taken them out the day before because the arcade game screens hurt my eyes, especially with contacts in.

I stick my finger in the solution, fishing around for the contact. And of course, the cliche happens - I drop it in the sink and it disappears down the drain, never to be seen again.

I had more, right?

Wrong. I'd forgotten to ask mom to order another batch.

This is turning into a terrible situation.

"Killu!"

"C- coming!" For a split second, I think about going like this, but my head is already starting to ache from straining my eyes for too long. With a sigh, I open up a drawer where I keep my glasses. They're big, black, and thick-rimmed - and I haven't worn them in months.

Mom says if I didn't play so many video games, my vision wouldn't have gone bad in the first place. I beg to differ.

Slowly, I slide the frames onto my face. My reflection becomes clear. I can see every detail of my features, even down to the tiny stitching on my maroon blazer. I give my face a quick glance. The glasses make me look younger, like a little 12 year old kid. Not only that, but I still have that disgusting cold, so the sniffling just adds to the dorky look.

I dare a peek at the clock.

7:45

Too late to look back now.

 **(｡ŏ﹏ŏ)**

I thought my cloud-esque hair would be the thing that attracted attention to me. But no. It's the Porsche my mom drives.

But then she completely ruins the image of "cool mom" when she drops me off with a kiss and a sack lunch covered in those embarrassing messages most mothers write to their kindergarteners on _their_ first day of school.

"Mom." I mutter. "I'm in high school now. Lay off."

Seeing the look on her face is enough to kill me internally, but she has to brutally murder what little of my image I have left when she wails that "my baby boy is growing up!" loud enough for the entire student body to catch an earful of. Can't say I expect positive things from this school year.

I make the walk of shame past all the maroon and navy blue clad students, keeping my sight low to ensure I don't accidentally make that really awkward eye contact with anyone. It mostly works, until I get to the gate.

"May I see your proof of enrollment, young man?"

I look up to see a green man wearing a suit and gloves. Or rather, I look _down_. He's probably like 4 foot 0, no joke. And green. I read the name on his tag and almost burst out in fits of hysterical laughter. Beans. His name is _Beans!_

"Please hurry if you can. There are a lot of students to get through."

I fish around in my backpack for the letter of acceptance and hand Beans the crumpled, yet official, documentation. He looks it over before typing a few things into his iPad.

"Smile."

I give him a confused look right as he takes a picture of me.

"Sorry." He apologizes, typing some more. "We don't have time for retakes, but fortunately, these are only temporary."

I understand what he means when he sends me off to orientation with the stupidest ID photo I've ever taken. Have you ever seen Side-eyeing Chloe? That's what I look like. Except with more of a deer-caught-in-headlights look. I'll just have to remember to store my ID deep in my bag and never take it out under any circumstances.

The staff (who's faces are plastered with the fakest smiles I've had the privilege to lay eyes upon) direct the incoming students to the auditorium. Inside, it looks like a movie theatre, only bigger and with comfy velvety seats.

Since I don't know anyone, I shuffle my way to the back where I can enjoy orientation alone in the shadows. But of course that doesn't work out.

"Hi!" Some perky curly-haired brunette sits down next to me even though there are 50 other empty seats around me. I give her a small smile.

"You must be a sophomore. I don't recognize you." She sticks out her perfectly manicured hand, obviously expecting me to shake it with as much enthusiasm as she's putting into this.

I'm a nice guy.

"Nice to meet you." I say shyly.

The girl grins and continues in her chipper voice. "I'm Maia, your student council president! I'm here to ensure that you enjoy your time at Hunter Academy. I want to be your friend, so never hesitate to ask me anything! Just because I'm a senior doesn't mean you should be intimidated by me. I was a sophomore once too..."

Maia goes on and on about things she probably isn't even sincere about, but my eyes have long since glazed over. Why can't people like her understand that not everyone likes attention? That some people actually like and _want_ to be left alone?

And then, past Maia's shoulder at the entrance of the auditorium, I see the scariest sight in my entire life.

Spiky black hair. Big doe eyes. Childish laughter that fills the entire room.

What is he _doing_ here?

"Is... Something the matter?" Maia glances back in the direction I'm staring (with a horrified expression, no doubt).

I shake my head, scratching the back of my neck nervously. Right now, I'd give anything not to be here. Suddenly I don't want Maia to leave. Because if she leaves, I'll be completely exposed and he'll see me. And I don't know what I'll do if he sees me.

I need some excuse to keep her here. Anything. I glance around at all the posters and get an idea.

 _Hunter Academy: Hunting for your dreams since 1987._

"Er, I do have a question actually."

She perks up and faces me, creating the perfect wall between me and my greatest fear.

"S- so..." I stutter, trying to come up with words on the spot. "Um... What if I don't know what... major to join?"

Hunter Academy is a bit different from the average private high school. The goal by graduation is to earn your Associates Degree, so there's a Major system. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are specialized learning days, specific to the major you choose. Tuesdays and Thursdays are General Ed, your core classes. There's an extremely wide variety of Majors, from health care to humanities, athletics to algebra. And if you don't know what you want to do, there's always the General Ed Major, which is basically anything and everything.

It's smart but a little overwhelming.

Maia clasps her hands together, and I can tell she has a speech memorized on the topic. But I'll listen if it means avoiding _him_. Or at least, pretend to listen.

"So this week is Fair Week. You can try out any class you want, all week. You're not even required to stay the whole period if it doesn't interest you. The purpose of this is to encourage students to find where their hidden talent lies so that they can excel in the Major they choose..." Etc etc etc. I know all this. I did my research before applying. But even now, I still don't know what I want to do. I'm really only good at video games, and the closest thing to that is the Game Design major- yeah, no thank you. I figured this first week would give me an idea, but I don't have my fingers crossed.

A shadow darkens the area above us, and for a second, I freak out because I've been found. But it's actually just one of Maia's friends, and before I know it, my barrier is wishing me luck and I'm exposed. Bare. Vulnerable.

Why am I so nervous? Because I broke his nose? Nah, I could get over that. Maybe it was just the whole situation, the way that we met. Or maybe the fact that I had this idea in my head that we'd be online buddies, nothing more, nothing less.

But of course fate hates me, as seen by the punching incident and the glasses, and all I feel is a sick nauseating emptiness in the pit of my stomach and I wish I had eaten breakfast and Holy Hunter, did he just look this way, no he's walking this way-

 _Rrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiing!_

Saved by the bell. It's 8:00.

A blonde guy in a sparkly gold suit (the principal?) steps onto the stage, shining and shimmering the whole way. He brings a microphone to his perfect smile, and his equally perfect voice echoes throughout the auditorium, asking the student body to take a seat.

I sink into the velvety cushion, and to my relief, _he_ disappears in a crowd heading toward the front. The horrible nausea eases up a bit, but my nerves still tingle like crazy.

"Good morning, Hunters, and welcome to Hunter Academy!"

The crowd erupts in fits of clapping, screeching, and whistling. It's so loud that my hands come up to my ears on reflex.

The blonde patiently waits for the noise to die down, which takes a few minutes. "For those incoming sophomores and others who are just joining us this year, I am your Vice Principal, Pariston Hill. It is my duty to you to make this school a better place and provide an enhanced learning experience to each and every one of you."

After boasting about the school and himself for a bit, Pariston introduces the other staff members, who all give a quick intro into what they teach and how they're going to help you "hunt for your dreams". I don't know how the other students keep up their intense enthusiasm, but the noise never lets up the entire hour.

And if I think that was bad, what comes next is killer.

Pariston sparkles. "But enough about us! We, the Hunter's Administration, know who you really want to see. So I present to you the one and only, our beloved Principal, Isaac Netero!"

The crowd goes wild. Like, absolutely insane. Kids are standing on their chairs swinging their blazers around, waving their phones back and forth. Celebratory music plays and out onto the stage an old dude wearing the weirdest wooden sandals I've ever seen falls from the rafters in the ceiling. He lands on his feet with a loud thud, and confetti rains down around him. But his entrance doesn't affect me like it does the others. All I can focus on are those retarded shoes. How does he even walk wearing those? And how are they even comfortable?

Netero takes the mike and turns to face the audience, pausing dramatically before garbling, "Hohoho~ It's good to be back."

I'm starting to doubt the promised poise and maturity of the Academy. At first, I assumed it was just the first day jitters or the students themselves, but this Netero guy seals the deal. What am I getting myself into?

"In just a moment," He says. "You will all be dismissed to the Fair. You may join any classroom, as long as it has open occupancy, and take any classes you'd like this entire week. But be prepared for Friday, because major sign-ups and schedule orders will be filled. It's first come, first serve."

I can almost imagine the principal adding, "so use whatever means you can to ensure your spot", but Netero leaves the implication alone.

He explains a few other things that the other administrators have already gone over, but then he gets serious. Obviously, this means business, because a hush settles throughout the room.

"We really are here to help." He says evenly. "Remember the motto of a good Hunter."

"A good Hunter always catches his prey!" The juniors and seniors chorus.

I purse my lips.

"I can tell we're in for a fantastic school year, fellow Hunters!" The principal chimes. "Now get out of here."

As soon as Netero dismisses the students, bodies start rapidly pouring down the aisles and out the doorway like beetles spilling out a hole in the bottom of a jar. I think about joining the crowd and slipping away unnoticed, but that would require a lot of pushing and waiting. So I stay where I am, my maroon blazer blending into the seat. I'm a chameleon. If only my hair weren't so white, I'd be virtually invisible.

I count each second. In just forty-seven, the entire room (minus lingering staff) is cleared. Vaguely I wonder if I should've hurried, but I could care less if I get stuck in a home ec class or something. Who knows, maybe I'll even be good at it.

Creaking like an old man, I stand, stretch, and stroll out into the hallway, prepared to enter the first classroom I see. Kudos if it's a boring class, because napping will be even easier.

But you know, life doesn't work out like that. Ever. Especially when your luck is as plentiful as your tolerance level (low).

There he is, standing right in front of me.

"KILLUA YOU GO HERE?! I DO TOO, THAT IS SO COOL ﾟ･✿ヾ╲(｡◕∇◕｡)╱✿･ﾟ"

I breathe in.

Yeah.

* * *

Next time, on **Misfits:**

 **Cachet- the state of being respected or admired; prestige**

* * *

Some notes:

The first section is in a different tense than the rest. Well, that's cuz this is basically Killua's thoughts as he goes about his day, and he doesn't start reflecting on his daily life until AFTER that incident.

*Kukuru Mountain- where the Zoldyck's live in the HxHverse. Even though this is set in our world, I decided to keep the name.

**I Kissed a Girl- yeah I... Don't even know

***Dentora- the region where Kukuru Mountain is located. Since I'm not very creative, I just kept the name. Let's pretend there's a town named Dentora in California. Hmm. Dentora, California. Catchy.

* * *

Alrighty, that was the beginning of a random, probably stupid idea that came to me during math class. Maybe it'll lead to something. Actually, probably not. Also, sorry for the emoticon outbreak. I just have this odd obsession...

Please please please let me know what you thought (the good AND the bad!) because that would be awesome and we all like to be awesome.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Cachet

It's here! Chapter deux, dos, ni - whatever you'd like to call it.

I was asked if this would be a yaoi romance story, and my answer is no. In fact, this may not even BE a romance story at all. I'm just much more into close friendships than cheesy romances (that being said, KilluGon is my BrOTP, so expect a lot of fluffy bro-ness).

Oh, Gon and Killua are 15 btw. Thanks Thirteen for the wonderful questions :) And thanks to the rest of the reviewers for your thoughts. I did my happy squeal-pig dance while reading every single one ༼ つ◕(oo)◕༽つ C'mon, bring it in. *death hugs*

Enough of that, let's all welcome **the** **disclaimer**. A round of applause, folks, for Togashi-sensei! yaaaaaa

NO EMOJIS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Cachet**

 **Cachet- the state of being respected or admired; prestige**

(*●⁰ꈊ⁰●)ﾉ

Red. White. Yellow. White. Blue. White. Red.

"I'm so glad we're classmates!"

White.

"It's such a coincidence, ne?"

Yellow. White. Blue.

"We're going to become great friends!"

Re- wait. What?

I don't mean to stop. But there's this extremely large and overwhelming part of my brain that tells me to stop because there's been a mistake.

"Ah, sorry." Gon smiles sheepishly. "I don't mean to sound so forward..."

I've messed up the pattern.

My eyes search the ground for the missing link. I knew what it was just a moment ago, but then I brain farted and Gon said something-

Gon said something.

Clearly, I wasn't listening. He's looking at me with a huge grin on his face, so whatever he said must've been good. Should I ask him to repeat it? But wouldn't that make me sound like a jerk? Or a bad friend? Hold it, who said we were friends anyway?

I go with the safe answer.

"Haha, yeah."

He seems to be satisfied with that.

I'm not sure where we're going, but I follow Gon's lead. Even though we're both new to this school, I feel safer following a kid who's been outside his California home more than twice.

"Ah, that's right. I should tell you where I'm going." He says as if reading my thoughts. "The gym."

"The gym?"

"Mm." Gon nods. "I'm really into sports. So I'm going to major in athletics."

I wrack my brain for anything cool to say about sports, but I've got nothing. The closest I've been to "sports" is playing FIFA 13 for five minutes before tossing it in the trash. Vaguely, I remember him mentioning a few when we first met on that terrible awful day. Rugby or something, right?

"So you're gonna... play sports and stuff?"

Stupid Comment Counter: Killua - 1. Gon - 0.

Gon starts to name off all the sports he's ever played, and after the 43rd (Sepak Takraw*), I realize just how much I appreciate Gon's uncanny ability to run his mouth for an eternity. Because I can't form a single intellectual thought to save my life.

I don't even notice the heavyset door in front of my face.

"Uwaaa!" Gon shoves himself forward. His forehead smacks the door because of the momentum. I step back, blinking in confusion.

He pulls back and the first thing I see is the giant red welt on his temple (which is a lovely new addition to the purple on his nose).

"Are you okay?"

 _He_ asks that. Not me.

"B- baka!" I fish around in my backpack for my water bottle. It's still frosty. I hand (shove) it to him to use as an icepack. He gladly accepts. "Why'd you do that anyway?" I ask.

"You were about to run into the door." He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Your glasses could've broke. And you would've gotten hurt."

"Which is exactly what happened to you!" I breathe heavy, trying to calm myself. That's twice now. In the two times I've seen Gon, he's gotten hurt. Because of me. I sigh, shoving my hands in my pockets and turn away. "Now I owe you twice." I mutter.

"Eh?" He shakes his head before wincing at the headrush it undoubtedly gives him. "You don't own me anything. It was an accident."

 _One I could've avoided._

See, this is why I don't hang out or associate with people.

Gon doesn't let me pity myself, or him for that matter. He just throws me what I've labeled his "trademark grin" and opens the door, gesturing me to follow suit.

I do.

But not willingly.

ԅ[ •́ ﹏ •̀ ]و

"So you're interested in sports, huh?"

Tall, tan, and blonde. The typical California chick.

We're outside on the track. The head coach, Coach Razor, sent us out here to give us an idea of what a major in the Athletics department would be like. We should all be watching the varsity kids "perform" in front of us, but the majority of the group is doing exactly what this girl is doing.

Flirting.

"Yeah!" Gon says. "Are you?"

She blows a bubble with her gum. It doesn't pop until its almost the size of her face, but when it does, it makes itself known.

I wipe spit off my cheek.

"Not really." She says, smacking. "I'm more interested in the hot guys out on the field."

I take a drink of water. Why am I here?

"Hey, you got a six pack?" She eyes Gon's flat stomach.

Of course he doesn't.

"Sure I do."

I almost do a spit take.

The girl blinks, giving me the once-over. "What about you?"

I blush madly. "Not really." I admit, and I'm ashamed for the first time in my life at my scrawniness.

She shrugs. "Cool hair, by the way. Where'd you get it done?"

I sink my head in towards my shoulders. "It's natural."

"REALLY?!" This time it's Gon who's asking the questions. He tilts his head, trying to get a look at my hair from every angle.

I guess I should've expected this moment.

My whole life, the one and only thing about me that's caught people's attention is my hair. For one thing, it's bushy. For another, it's snow-white. Call it a genetic mutation, but I was born with it. So was Dad. So was Grandpa. It runs in the family. And of the five of Silva Zoldyck's children, I'm the only one that inherited the "special" hair.

And for some strange and very traditional reason, it's marked me as the heir to the household (translating to: I get all my family's possessions and prestige when my Father retires).

Not sure how I feel about that.

"I thought you dyed it too!" Gon exclaims, reaching out to touch a few strands.

I have the reflexes of a cat. So before his fingers can make contact with any part of me, I shoot backwards. And it would've worked out pretty well. You know, if we hadn't been sitting on the bleachers.

My butt lands so that I'm wedged in the open air between the footboard and the row behind me. So I'm stuck there, folded like a taco. Killua Zoldyck the taco.

"Sorry!" Gon laughs. " I didn't mean to startle you."

I try to pull myself up, but I have this condition called "Zero Upper-Body Strength" that destroys that plan. Gon has to help me up (the second most humiliating moment of my life) and his hand brushes the side of my hair as he does, completely defeating the purpose of my frantic backpedaling in the first place. He gets stars in his eyes, the kind little kids and girls get when they see cute puppies. He doesn't say anything about it.

The girl interrupts. "I'm Piyon, by the way."**

"I'm Gon." Gon drops his hands from my arm in order to properly greet her. The result is my head whacking the bench.

"WAH!" He whips around, pulling me back up all the way. "KILLUA I'M SO SORRYYYYYYY!"

I wheeze, "Now we're even."

Piyon seems at least somewhat interested in us. "How long have you guys known each other?" She asks.

"Sixteen hours." Gon promptly replies.

I raise a brow, doing some mental math... which I suck at.

The bubble she was blowing pops. She just looks at us.

I'm starting to feel pretty uncomfortable about all this. "What?" I grumble.

She shrugs again, and I'm pretty sure I've got this girl all figured out. "Nothing much. You seem like good friends, by the way."

Gon gushes, I blushes.

The first bell rings.

(｡✪o✪｡)

Gon insists we attend another athletics class the next period. I wish I could say that it didn't end up happening, but it did, so I can't.

"You two again?" The coach asks us. I can't tell what he's thinking since his eyelids seem to be glued together.

Gon grins. "I already know I'm majoring in Athletics."

"Is that so?" Razor seems amused (again, _seems_ ). "Many of the majors require tryouts. Including athletics."

Gon doesn't react in the slightest. "I know that."

So what does the coach do? Exactly what you'd expect.

ε=ε=ε=┏( ゜)ਊ゜)┛

"The minimum requirement of acceptance is a 100-meter dash time of no more than 10.9 seconds."

Gon, in his borrowed gym clothes, crouches down with his feet plastered against the starting block. I, a mere spectator, stand behind the chain-link fence. I can't catch any details of his features from this far away, but everything about his body language screams out his determination to pass this thing.

Should I lie and say I believe in him? No. But you just don't see that many 5'3" track stars around. Then again, this is the same guy who's played more than 43 sports and claims - _claims_ \- to have a six-pack. So we'll see.

A few moments later, everything is ready.

 _Bang!_

I blink.

Wasn't he there, behind the startline, just a moment ago? Because of the time it takes my eyes to recover, I don't catch his movements until he's almost reached the finish line.

"9.7 seconds!"

Some background information: I know nothing about track.

Many of the students start cheering. The rest are whispering. My powers of deduction conclude that 9.7 seconds is pretty good for a 100-meter dash.

After talking with the coach and enduring the many backslaps of the varsity kids, Gon returns to me. He stands on the other side of the chain-link fence. It reminds me of that one movie, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.*** Not a great comparison.

"How was that?" He asks.

Incredibly "Fast."

He pouts a little, eyes practically begging for my approval or affirmation or whatever.

"You were great." I add.

Gon scratches the back of his neck, denying the wonderful compliment I so graciously gave to him. Baaaka.

"Coach Razor said if I performed well on tryout day, I'd be sure to make the cut." Gon said. "But he said this alone doesn't solidify anything. So I have to make sure to be in top condition on Friday!"

I chuckle. "Wouldn't it be funny if you got the stomach flu or something?"

Gon combusts. "KNOCK ON WOOD!" He spins around in circles, searching for anything that can be considered wood. But in this modern day and age, wood ceases to exist.

"UWAAAA KILLUA YOU'VE DOOMED ME (ｼ;´Д｀)ｼ "

I roll my eyes. "Gon, you can't seriously believe that stuff."

"It's true! One time, my friend said that I was gonna fail math and I didn't believe him so I didn't knock on wood AND I FAILED MATH."

Que sweat drop.

╰། ᵒ̌ д ᵒ̌ །╯

We don't go to the gym for a third time. Somehow, we end up in a Psychology 101 class.

The blonde boy next to me taps my shoulder. "Is your friend okay?"

There it is again. _Friend._

"｡･ﾟヾ(✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡ Щ(º̩̩́Дº̩̩̀щ) (ꈨຶꎁꈨຶ)۶" ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄Д˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚"

"He's going through a rough patch in his life." I deadpan. I turn to him. "Oi, Gon."

"Yes? (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)"

"Maybe... tone it down a little?" I lower my voice. "You're making a scene."

A.K.A., 95% of the class is our gripping audience.

He sniffles and nods, dropping his head into his arms.

We haven't known each other for even a full 24 hours, yet I've already come up with the definition of Gon.

Gon - (noun) A 15-year-old male drama queen.

And there's this one.

Gon - (intransitive verb) To be excessively overdramatic about everything ever.

If there's ever a Hunter Academy dictionary, you can bet your behind "Gon" will be the first submission.

The teacher up front (who insists we call him Narrator) talks about the kind of topics to be covered this semester (and immediately I can see why he has the nickname). I can tell right then and there that this is not the subject for me. Technically, I could ditch the class this very moment... but then again, who cares?

Blondie does.

"Excuse me." He murmurs. "But could you escort your friend elsewhere? He's really disruptive."

Uh, either I'm deaf or this guy's the king of all philomaths, because I haven't heard a single peep from Gon since I asked him to quiet down. For some reason, I'm irritated.

"What's bothering you?" I ask with the slightest tinge of irk on my tongue.

It takes the guy way longer than necessary to answer the question. In fact, it takes so long that I start to doze off before he murmurs curtly, "Never mind." He rests his head in his hand, focusing all his negative energy on the Narrator. As if suddenly the "problem" and I don't exist anymore.

Sheesh. What's his deal?

໒( ᓀ ‸ ᓂ )७

I expect the rest of the day will go by no different than the beginning - more boring classes, more snotty rich brats, more Gon to deal with. But I'm going to make a prediction right now.

I am so very wrong.

(*´σー｀)

It starts with lunch.

Gon and I both had brought lunch from home. The cafeteria became a zoo just minutes after the bell rang, so we decide to just find a nice shady spot in the courtyard to sit.

His mom (or butler or whatever) packed him the most American lunch you can get: PB & J, carrot sticks, string cheese, apple juice. It makes me question just what kind of family he has.

So I ask.

"Hmm..." He thinks for a moment, mouth full of sandwich. "I live with my aunt and grandma."

"Any siblings?"

Gon shakes his head.

I want to ask about his parents and what happened to them, but the topic tends to be a touchy one. And Gon is emotional. The two probably won't fare together well.

Reaching into my backpack to find my lunch, I suddenly freeze. A constant stream of _"Oh, no"_ floods my mind. I pale (which really isn't noticeable on an albino).

There's no way I'm taking that sack out. Because written all over it in pink permanent marker are the most embarrassing notes I've received in my entire life.

Thank you, mother.

"I can't wait for you to meet my other friends!" Gon says. "Most of them don't go to this school. But I'll invite them to the arcade so you can meet them this weekend!"

I need a distraction. "Oh yeah? Tell me about them."

In all honesty, I don't want to meet them. I'd gone into this school year expecting to be on my own. And I was fine with that. It's how I've always been. Spending the entire school day with Gon has been tough enough. Seriously. I swear I've worked up more sweat today than I did that time I had to clean my entire room all by myself. My brain's been on overdrive with all the thinking I've done. Sooner or later, it's gonna combust. And right now may be that moment.

So far, I've been able to stay cool. Sure, I had my awkward moments of unsurety and word fumblings, but he hasn't said a single thing to point out my mistakes. This stupid brown paper bag isn't my mistake, but it sure does hold my dignity.

As Gon rambles on about each and every kid he considers a friend (which quite possibly may be every child on the planet), I carefully reach into the hidden sack and pull out the garbage my mom packed me.

She's big into health food.

Luckily, there's one untouched, untampered with item, and that's an apple. So I stick with that.

I eat slowly in hopes that the meager nourishment will last me until I can get to the nearest convenience store. Gon tells more stories. Some of them are actually pretty interesting, so maybe, MAYBE, meeting his friends won't be so bad.

And then it happens.

(／A＼)

"What the crap is _this_?!"

The voice comes from behind me, along with the familiar sound of crinkling brown paper bag. It seems my worst lunchmare has come to pass.

A big tall guy with long crazy hair is holding my lunch, examining all the hearts, X's and O's decorating the surface. Behind him stand two others: a blonde guy and girl with glasses bigger than mine. The blonde (not the same prick as earlier) chuckles a little.

The scary-huge one looks down at me, grinning a malicious grin. This can't be good. "How's the first day been, little boy? Is it hard being away from mommy?"

Glasses girl pokes her head around, trying to get a good look. "Uvo, let me see."

The guy (Uvo, I guess) tosses it to her, and she checks it out with interest. "Ne, this is really pretty." She decides before the blonde guy takes it.

"Let's see what's inside."

Ohhhhhh man. Can I just die now?

"Is that vomit in a bag?!"

Seriously, give me a loaded pistol. This story can end right now.

The booming laughter of the guy called Uvo attracts the attention of two more - a pony tailed guy who really needs to shave and a pinked-haired chick.

"What's going on?" The girl asks in monotone, and for a moment, I wonder if she's here to save me. But the very thought is humiliating enough.

"Ah, Machi." The blonde says. "We took this kid's lunch."

I look cross-eyed at the finger pointing directly at my face. The face that is now as red as the apple that's threatening to climb up my throat. Oh dear.

"Who are you guys?" Gon asks. And that's just great. Really. Cuz now he's gonna get pulled into this.

The blonde raises a brow. "Oi, aren't you the 9.7 kid?"

Is that already a thing?

Gon nods enthusiastically.

"Ah, so cool!" He sticks his hand out. "I'm Shalnark, varsity sprinter."

Great. So now Gon can get all chummy with these idiots.

The two shake hands, after which Shalnark introduces his buddies. The pink-haired girl is Machi, the one with glasses is Shizuku. Pony-tail is Nobunaga and last but most _definitely not_ least is Uvo, the 7 foot tall jerk who started this all.

"By the way, what happened to your face?"

He's gonna tell them, isn't he?

"Haha, nothing much!" Gon says. "Just an accident or two."

I might just slip away. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never have to see these people again. If I can only just -

"Now I have a question."

It's Gon again.

"Why do you have Killua's lunch?"

Please don't, Gon.

Uvo laughs obnoxiously again, so Shalnark does the answering.

"Gon, can you keep a secret?"

"No."

Apparently that's a minute detail, because Shalnark tells him anyway.

"We- " He gestures to the pack. " - are the Spiders."

So this school has gangs, huh? Frankly, the name means nothing to me, but it does to Gon. His eyes widen and his mouth becomes an "o". There's this weird mixture of surprise, excitement, and fear on his face that winds up just looking like admiration.

My eyes travel a bit. To my dismay, we've captured everyone's attention. We stand on courtyard center stage. Whatever happens next will be tomorrow's gossip.

Uvo suddenly sticks his face in mine. It feels like sweat is pouring down the sides of my face.

He grins toothily. "Tell your mommy that we like beef jerky and Twinkies." His breath smells like alcohol. It reminds me of my brother.

Now, I have a sensitive nose. I suffer from allergies all throughout spring and the rest of the year I'm plagued with these horrible colds. So the awful scent of cheap beer and B.O. works up an unpleasant reaction in my nostrils. They start to twitch and I know exactly what's gonna happen.

I shove my hand in my pocket to grab a tissue but it's far too late.

 _"Huaaa-chu!"_

The result is this.

A chorus of, "OHHHHHHH!"

I spray Uvo's face with germy spit. Luckily, nothing else landed on him, but that doesn't mean there aren't thick yellow nasties running down onto my lips.

"Say it, don't spray it!" Shalnark laughs.

Even Machi and Nobunaga seem amused. "Whelp. That's what you get." He says. She shrugs, suppressing a smile.

Slowly, Uvo opens his eyes. I think I'm gonna pee my pants. No, I'm gonna vomit. No, I'm going to do both simultaneously and then bleed all over the floor because of the damage his fists are going to do to my frail body -

"Excuse me!"

I swear I recognize that voice. But currently, my eyes are shut so tightly that they might just fall off. I wait in the dark for what seems like an eternity.

"I could report you for stealing." The voice threatens. "And bullying."

Nobunaga answers. "You've done it plenty of times in the past. Never works."

"I could film this."

Hesitantly, I crack an eye open. And what I see makes the other fling open as well.

It's the prissy blonde from Psychology 101.

He holds up his phone, finger hovering dangerously over the screen.

It seems oxygen doesn't exist here, because I can't breathe.

Uvo eyes me again. His pupils are knives, stabbing me repeatedly. My vision goes blurry. My heart is going to rip out of my chest any moment now. I swallow thickly.

"You - " Uvo growls. " - are dead."

I've lived a good life.

But before I can die, I feel a sharp blow hit the top of my head, followed by the sensation of warm, sticky liquid running down my back. He must've cracked my head open with that hit.

Before I know it, the Spiders are gone.

...

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gon start to run after them, but the blonde grabs his arm.

"Let me go!" He yells. "They can't do that to Killua!"

"I get that!" The older boy says. "But there's no point. They'll just hurt you."

"I don't care! _Let go of me!"_

I'm so confused. Don't I need to see a doctor? Carefully, I reach up and touch the pool of blood on my scalp, but what I find isn't blood at all. It's my mom's cooking.

Just great. So now I can smell like garlic and kale for the rest of the day AND look like a snot monster.

Eventually, Gon stops resisting. His initial fury turns to concern. "Killua, are you okay? Does your head hurt?"

Of course it does. "N- no. I'm fine."

The blonde hands me a tissue. By now, there's snot all over my chin.

"Sorry about that." He says for some reason. It's not like he did anything. Actually, he _saved_ me, the damsel in distress. "I've been trying to turn them in since last year, but they always seem to get away."

Ah. Wonderful.

"Your name is Killua, right?"

I nod.

"I'm Kurapika." He shakes my hand. "It's nice to meet you."

I nod again.

"Sorry about last period." Kurapika says. "I didn't mean to sound so rude."

Nod. So he remembered.

At this point, my head feels so heavy and my body so numb that I can't respond other than nodding. They probably think I have brain damage. I might, actually.

They end up taking me to the restroom to help me get as much of the nasty goop that was supposed to be my lunch, not my clothes, off of me. And all I can think the whole time is this one cohesive thought.

My life sucks.

(੭ ◕㉨◕)੭ =͟͟͞͞=͟͟͞͞三❆)'дº);,':=͟͟͞͞

"Ah, Killu!" Mom says as soon as the car door creaks open. She looks past the sunglasses she always wears, getting a good look at all the kids watching us. If only she knew why. "How was your first day, darling?"

I let a door slam do the answering.

_:(´□`」 ∠)

I only get one text tonight.

 _Killua! I'm so sorry I didn't help you at lunch! ๑•́ㅿ•̀๑) ᔆᵒʳʳᵞ but next time I'll protect you! I promise!_

Only two words stick out to me.

Next time?

* * *

Next time, on **Misfits:**

 **Covenant - a formal and serious agreement or promise**

* * *

Some notes:

*Seepak Takraw: A Malaysian game kind of like volleyball except you use your feet and you play on a badminton court. It's interesting, okay? Okay.

**Piyon: Yes, I know she isn't tall or blonde, but let's just pretend she's a bit taller, a bit tanner, and a lot blonder. Well, she's kind of blonde already... This is what fanfiction is for, right?

***The Boy in the Striped Pajamas: Sad movie about the Holocaust and concentration camps. Watch it if you haven't, cry with me if you have.

Sorry if anyone is out of character :3


	3. Covenant

Okay, so I didn't completely abandon this story.

( ･ั﹏･ั)

Thanks for the awesome feedback guys! For those of you who have PMing disabled (and those I haven't yet replied to), I've responded to you at the end of this chapter. So no worries, I really _do_ care! ༼ ' ل͜ ' ༽ (that be me and my... genuine smile _gosh_ _i'm a such a neeerd_ )

P.S. sorry if I've already replied to your review and I'm doing it again at the end of this chapter… my mind is a mess :P

 **Disclaimer:** I haven't succeeded in becoming Togashi yet, still working on that…

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Covenant**

 **Covenant – a formal and serious agreement or promise**

* * *

o(-_-;*)

It's Thursday night and I'm still lost.

For the past four days, I have gone to every class imaginable. Culinary (a mistake). Trigonometry (a tragedy). Chemistry (a disaster). Child Care (HORRIFICALLY AWFUL). The only subject I at least somewhat enjoyed was a Creative Writing class I stumbled into last period today. Even the blind would be able to peg the teacher as a Sci-Fi buff. Wing- _sensei_ (he insisted) had every last inch of his classroom walls covered in posters, ranging from _The Dark Night_ to _Naruto_. On his desk were little trinkets (the Sheik figurine and miniature TARDIS were my personal favorites). Soft music played through the speakers, and if I strained my ears, I could tell it was the original _Star Wars_ soundtrack.*

He didn't wait at the door, awkwardly greeting each student like most of the teachers did. In fact, he didn't even look up from the _Game of Thrones_ novel he was reading for the first five minutes of class. Personally, I really liked this guy.

"Creative writing?" Gon chews on that for a bit. After the second day, I ditched Gon to pursue my own interests – well, at least for part of the day. Somehow I still found myself sitting in the bleachers every morning at 8 a.m.

"I don't know much about writing…" He says. "But I got a C in English last year."

I wait to see his expression so I know if I should congratulate him or pout with him. But as it turns out, a C is pretty great by Gon's standards.

Unfortunately, if I'm going to pursue the _one single thing_ that caught my attention in this school system, I'll have to do it alone. I'm not too sure how I feel about that. No doubt Gon is going into the Athletics major. He knows and has known exactly what he wants.

Me?

I guess we'll find out together.

ಠ╭╮ಠ

I'm probably a horrible son for saying this, but I'm overjoyed that Mom's sick. Why? Because _pizza_ , that's why.

If Mom can't cook (which really is a blessing), we always order pizza – way more than necessary. I end up eating an entire large pepperoni and sausage, plus a couple cinnamon sticks.

My oldest brother, Illumi, sits poised at the dining room table, delicately nibbling on his second slice. Next to him, my other older brother Milluki shoves an entire slice into his fat mouth. Honestly, it boggles everyone in the Zoldyck estate how exactly the two can be related – myself included.

"Brother," Alluka, my only sister, tugs on my sleeve. "Can I play?"

Resident Evil IIIV? No way.

"Killu." Illumi calls, not even bothering to turn around. "You shouldn't be playing video games during dinner."

Leave it to him to be the replacement mom. "I already ate." I kick the empty pizza box next to me for emphasis.

Illumi is used to getting what he wants. He's pretty good at manipulation, and on top of that, he's got this lifeless, almost zombie-like look to him. So he's freaky. Ever since I was born, he's been obsessed with me, even more so than Mom. Basically, that means I'm his prime target for manipulation.

Today, he starts simple: a distraction. "You're picking your major tomorrow, aren't you?"

I nod, trying not to lose focus on the game.

"Do you have any ideas yet?"

"Nope." I pop the 'p', loud and clear.

"Well," He starts. "I have a few suggestions.

Another thing: Illumi's a parent-pleaser. He's totally on board with me taking over the family business someday.

So he rattles off a few of his own (and Dad's, I'm sure of it) suggestions. "How about Business? Or Marketing? Or better yet, Communications."

I honestly have no idea what the family company is anyway, nor do I care. Whatever it is, it's obviously busy stuff, cause Dad is never home. He's either on a trip or in the office or in his own office here at home. I can't remember the last time we were all together, having a good time with not a care in the world. It must've been nice, back in the old days. According to Illumi, once I was born everything changed. Dad realized he finally had an heir, a son he could pass his supposedly "great" work down to. For the past 15 years, he's been working and making arrangements for the day I get my degree… the day he can retire peacefully.

I hope I've made it clear to him just how much I _don't_ want to be him. Or at least, do the things he does. Mom and Illumi claim it's because I haven't fully matured yet, but they're hopelessly wrong. Is it so hard to understand that their little boy wants something more out of life other than work, work, work?

I wrinkle my nose at his suggestions. "Boring."

Silently (seriously, it's scary just how much he can hide his presence), he comes to stand in front of me and the TV screen. I'm forced to pause the game.

"It's time to start taking this seriously." He crouches down to give me a daunting look. "You're practically in college now – just a few short years away from becoming the head of this family." He gives a small disapproving frown, the only show of emotions he's displayed this whole evening. "What are you doing now?"

I open my mouth to answer snarkily, but it reflexively closes back up almost immediately. I don't talk back to Illumi. I don't talk back to Dad. And what has that acquiescence gotten me?

A fat black chair behind a polished wooden desk on the 99th floor of granite office building.

Illumi gives me a moment to sweat before standing, a hand on his slim hip. "I hope you follow our advice." He turns to walk away, throwing one last murky word over his shoulder. " _Killu_."

A slight shiver runs down my spine. I hate that dumb nickname. Everyone in the family, minus my two younger siblings, calls me that. It sounds like a word derived from cold-blooded murder. Like I'm a hitman-assassin or some deranged serial killer.

I suddenly have no appetite for shooting the guts out of NPC's. I end the game and head to bed, not bothering to say goodnight to anyone.

For the next few hours, I lie awake on my bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Glowing stars stuck in random places mirror me. Dim and exhausted.

I check my phone a few times, but there's never any new messages. Should I text Gon first? I don't want to bother him or seem like I'm too attached though. I leave it be.

The wait for nothing eats me alive from the inside out.

(;ↀ⌓ↀ)

"Killu! Breakfast is ready!"

My biggest pet peeve is probably when I'm woken up before the alarm clock is supposed to ring. That's exactly what Mom's shrill sing-song voice does. I chuck a pillow at her, burying my head deeper into the sheets.

Mom doesn't appreciate that of course. She screeches things about "respect" and "laziness" but I've long since tuned her out.

That's when my phone buzzes.

 _Today's the big day!_ o(*≧□≦)o

"Killua! Are you even listening to me?!"

 _I'm so nervous_ (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋

"I will take that phone away from you mister, and I mean it! _Killu!_ "

Yeah, right. Mom's full of empty threats.

I text back, _Me too_

That's the understatement of the year.

Ten minutes later I manage to pull myself out of bed and into the bathroom, completely ignoring the fact that Mom was well enough to experiment in the kitchen today. The same routine goes down. Brush teeth. Attempt to comb hair. Throw on the insanely uncomfortable school uniform (though I've _conveniently_ been forgetting the tie at home).

I reach for my glasses disdainfully, scowling at their bulkiness. I finally got around to asking Mom to order more contacts, but they shouldn't be coming in for a couple weeks. Which means I'm stuck not only being a dork but also _looking_ like one until October.

I get to school before the last minute rush of students. With twenty minutes to spare, I hang out in an alcove near the English hallway. It's practically empty and far away from the quad (where the Spiders and pretty much everyone else hangs out).

I bite my lip, going over all the Major options in my head. Nothing speaks to me.

On the third day, I actually did go to a first year Business and Marketing class. I think I stayed awake for the first ten minutes. And my family expects me to do that for the rest of my life? I'd probably kill myself before graduation!

Maybe Athletics would be best – at least I'd have a friend. Then again, there's no way I'd make it past the first round of tryouts. There's also that blonde prick. I think he said he was a Psychology major? I've only seen him once since the Lunch Tragedy, but it was only a quick nod of acknowledgment when we passed in the hallway.

There's only one Major I can see myself going into: General Ed. And as boring and generic as it sounds, at least it won't bind me into anything specific. Besides, no one pays attention to those guys. I always hear chatter about the best athletes, the hottest fashion designers, and most talented chefs. But the kid with the top General Ed grades? Who even is he? No one knows and no one cares. That sure sounds like a deal to me.

໒( " ͠° ʖ̫ °͠ " )७

Sign-ups are by last name, alphabetical order. Killua Zoldyck is next to last.

I don't mind though. There's no maximum occupancy to my major.

When I tell my counselor what I want to do, he seems a bit hesitant.

"Would you like to look over the catalog?" Mr. Satotz asks. "You can take as long as you like."

"I have." I say to him. "And I already made my decision."

He gives me a long look before typing things into his computer. I'll never forget his last cryptic words to me.

 _"Good luck."_

At the time, I shrug it off completely. Stupid teachers and their abnormally high expectations for us.

But that isn't what he meant. Not at all.

( ͡°Ĺ̯̿̿ ͡°)

Gon and I meet up at lunch.

"And then we did pole vaulting and then hurdles and then we ran 8 laps and then – "

"Gon, _Gon._ " I chewed on my somewhat normal PB&J while talking. "Take a breath, will you?"

I feel a little guilty a moment later. Sure, I'm sarcastic and rude to pretty much everyone in existence, but I try to hold back around Gon. Why? Not sure. Maybe because he's so emotional…?

He's either really naïve or way excited or both because he's still glittering.

"I've found my calling in life, Killua." He closes his fist tightly, determined. "( ु ᷁௰ ᷁ ू)."

I smile, genuinely happy for him.

He looks at me. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. What's your calling in life?"

That's a wonderful question, Gon. I shrug. "Not sure. That's why I chose Generals."

His eyebrows suddenly lower. Not in an angry way, but more of a, 'you did what?' kind of way. His mouth is slightly open.

"What?" I turn away, embarrassed. "So I don't know what I want to do with my life, big deal. I'm barely 15."

He shakes his head. "That's not it. Haven't you heard the rumors?"

My attention is captured. "Rumors?"

"I knew a guy who knew a girl who knew another guy's cousin who was a General Ed major." He leans closer, looking around suspiciously. Almost as loud as normal speaking, he whispers, " _He died_."

I lean back, rolling my eyes. "Let me guess. The rumor is that a guy in the program died, and now he haunts everyone else that joins the Major for the rest of their lives. Real original."

Gon shakes his head more vigorously. "No, that's not it. Do you know why he died?"

I'm getting annoyed. "Just tell me."

Again, with the insanely loud whisper. " _He committed suicide_."

So far, none of this is standing out to me. Almost every high school in the nation has had at least one suicide, if not more. Considering this is a college prep academy, the pressure on kids is even greater. What's one suicide got to do with the whole program?

"He was a Misfit." Gon says. "Unless you're popular or there's something really unique about you – which is rare – you're a Misfit."

Satotz's words enter my mind. ' _Good luck._ ' Even the teachers were wary about this whole "Misfit" business. I bit my lip.

Gon must sense my slight apprehension, because he grins and ruffles my hair. "Don't worry, Killua. Your hair is unique so I bet no one will bully you!"

I snort. "Glad to know the bush on my head is my defining feature. And anyway, I've already been bullied and wasn't even in the program at the time! This'll just give the Spiders another reason to torment me."

"You talking about us?"

I almost jump out of my skin when three of the gang members appear before us. It's Shalnark, Phinks, and my personal favorite –

"How's it going, Snotrag?" Uvo grins toothily. "Did they let you into the Stuffed Animal Department?"

He booms with laughter at that. Shalnark, his best crony says honestly, "That joke wasn't even funny."

The big guy stops immediately. "Well why don't you tell a better one then, huh?"

Shalnark gladly takes on the task. "What's black and white and red all over?"

I say nothing, only shrinking further behind Gon.

Uvogin answers for us. "You two once we're through with you!" He pounds a fist into his palm for emphasis.

"That wasn't what I was gonna say." Shalnark complains.

Gon stands up, blocking my view of them. I'm actually glad for that. "Why do you hate Killua so much?"

I can already see where this is going.

"Dorkface here shot boogers all over my face! Of course I wanna slaughter him!"

"It was an accident." Gon defends.

"You don't know much about the Spiders, do you kid?" Phinks says. "We've broken arms just from dirty looks we get."

"Feitan's even killed a man." Shalnark says pleasantly.

"Do you get it now?" Phinks smirks at me. It's not a comfortable sight. "We enjoy this. So don't think we're gonna stop anytime soon."

They laugh a little before walking away, fist-bumping and shoving each other back and forth. What jerks. At least they didn't find out about my Major.

"If only they'd find a hobby."

I jump again, this time twisting around to see the blonde prick watching the retreating Spiders intensely.

I let out a relieved breathe. I'm ticked though. "Would everyone _please_ make their appearance _known_ before they speak?!"

Kurapika raises a brow at me. "Am I that frightening?"

"Killua's just jumpy." Gon says, making me blush and deny his factual statement.

The senior smiles a little, focusing on the trio in the distance, already abusing their next victim. "It's my goal to get them expelled."

"Why is it so hard?" I can't help but feel totally helpless and extremely angry. "They've been tormenting kids for two years, and that's just at this school. Who knows what else they've done."

"It's because they never get caught in the act." He states simply. "If there's no proof, the school board won't do anything about it."

"That's messed up." Gon says.

Kurapika nods in agreement. "Principal Netero's belief is that it's important to have passion and heart for something. If the Spider's truly enjoy what they do, he won't stop them. Or more like, he won't look for a reason to stop them."

Gon and I are both confused. Kurapika goes on with a slight frown, "There could be a serial killer among us and the principal wouldn't care. That's just how he is."

"So what you're saying," I start. "Is that you're trying to get proof so that Netero will expel them."

"The problem is getting the proof." He looked troubled. "I've caught them on video before, and Netero said it could easily have been edited footage. And even then, no one got hurt in the clip I had. Basically, unless they actually murder someone on campus right in front of his eyes, they're here to stay."

I suddenly have a horrifying thought. "Don't tell me you – "

"Don't worry. I'd never go that far." He says that, but by the look on his face, I can't be so sure that that's the truth.

"Anyway, I've got to go meet up with a friend." Kurapika waves good-bye.

Once he's out of earshot, Gon asks, "What were you thinking?"

Gon's so innocent and friendly. Me? Not so much. It almost embarrasses me that I'd think something like this about Kurapika. Reluctantly, I tell him. "I thought maybe Kurapika would try to set up a situation… where someone gets murdered by the Spiders."

Some person I am. I expect Gon to gasp, to ask how I could ever think Kurapika would stoop so low. But what he says shocks me.

"You never know what people will do to get what they want." He stares at the ground. " _Especially_ when it's out of anger."

He gets up to throw the remains of his lunch away, and by the time he turns, he's grinning again. "Let's go outside."

I have no choice but to follow.

/(￣^￣)\

Of course by 'outside' Gon means the track.

"Honestly," I mumble. "You have an unhealthy obsession with this place."

"But it's not unhealthy." He says. "Running is good for you."

"You know exercising too much is a body image disorder? Kinda like anorexia or bulimia."

He laughs. "I don't do this to look good." He crouches down at the start line, getting into position. Now a habit, I pull out my phone and open up the stopwatch setting. Clearing his throat, he adds, "I do it for something else."

I'm about to ask the obvious follow-up question, but he talks before I can. "Give me a countdown."

Do I refuse, demanding an answer first? Not with Gon, I don't. "On your mark…"

He face shifts, focusing.

"Get set…"

He does.

"Go!"

Like an absolute monster, he flies over rubber. From my position, it's hard to tell exactly when he crosses the 100-meter line, but I do my best.

"9.9 seconds!" I call. "Looks like you've lost your touch, Mr. '9.7'." I snicker. That nickname is still going around.

"I don't have as much adrenaline when people aren't watching! (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)" He whines. "And I'm wearing my school uniform!"

"Yeah, yeah. Make all the excuses you want." I show him the time. "You know, I may have stopped it a bit early. Are you in 10 second territory now?"

"That was a fluke." He says. "Human error." He throws his maroon blazer to the ground, rips off his tie, rapidly untucks and unbuttons his shirt. "I'll prove it."

Gon looks so ridiculous, crouching down on the track in his wrinkled tank top and pressed navy blue pants. I can see that his biceps are defined. That 6-pack claim is probably true.

He runs those 100 meters over and over again. I watch him. He may be impulsive and reckless, but when he runs, he has grace. Form. Everything works together. When his right leg goes forward, his arm reaches back. When he takes a short breath, his muscles contract.** I never would've guess that running looks like art. This here is meant to be in a gallery, not a dumpy high school track.

Nobody bullies Gon. Not even the Spiders. At first I thought it was his bold personality, but watching him sprint makes it clear to me.

Gon is strong.

And that gives me an idea.

ヽ( ˘益˘ )ゝ

The bell rings just as he was about to go again.

Pouting, he gets dressed. "I wish I could do this all day."

I cross my arms. "Gon, you're gonna be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger if you keep this up."

"ᕙ(▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿) ᕗ Well, he is my role model."

I'm genuinely surprised. "You like _The Terminator_ *** that much, huh?"

"' _The meaning of life is not to simply to exist, to survive, but to move ahead, to go up, to achieve, to conquer._ ' That's the guy I admire – not the movie roles he plays." He throws his blazer over one shoulder, his bag over the other. "Let's go."

I follow behind him, trying to match his quick steps. Somehow I muster up the courage and toss away the humiliation to ask what's on my mind. "Can you train me?"

He glances at me. "Train you in what?"

"Help me become stronger. I figure if I'm tough and athletic, there won't be a reason for people to bully me. And if they do, I can finally face them." I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "I'm not going anywhere like this."

Gon looks a bit skeptical. "But Killua – "

"'The meaning of life is to conquer'? Didn't you just quote that?" I sigh a little, gripping the straps of my backpack. "Look, I just want to fit in. I hate standing out."

Silence falls between us for a few moments. I can understand why he wouldn't want to do this. I'm a hopeless case. I'm already breathing heavy trying to keep up with his walking pace. I guess I shouldn't be too disappointed if he says –

"Alright."

I blink.

He gives me a determined smile. "Let's do it."

My eyes light up. My chest feels a little clearer with all those forming doubts evaporating in an instant. "Tha – "

"But on one condition."

This surprises me a bit. I didn't think Gon would want something in return for his kind service. But who cares. I'll do anything to fit in.

"Are you any good at geometry? Or chemistry? Or world history?"

"Uh… I…" Stammering at the unexpected question, I reply, "Yeah, I guess. I'm decent at least."

He grins. "Good! (oﾟ▽ﾟ)o Because Coach Razor warned us that if we couldn't keep at least a C average, we'd be kicked out of the Athletics program. So I really need some help."

Sounds good enough to me. We shake on it before picking up the pace to make it to 4th period.

"By the way," I say cheekily, "That last one? 9.7 _1_." I dig my knuckles into his skull, blithely grinning. "Get your head in the game."

He laughs, pushing me so he can head in the other direction towards the gym. In his awful Terminator impression, he replies, " _I'll be back._ "****

Me too.

* * *

Next time, on **Misfits:**

 **Masquerade: a way of appearing or behaving that is not true or real**

* * *

Some notes:

*I don't own anything I mentioned in that incredibly geeky paragraph. *sigh*

**I totally didn't mean to rhyme there. Agh… I made Killua sound like a poet. Maybe I'll use that to my advantage?

***The Terminator – I should probably rewatch that movie. It's been like… a decade. And I haven't seen Genisys yet SO NO SPOILERS!

****Probably the most famous quote from The Terminator.

* * *

 **VitameatavegaminGirl:** You sweet, sweet child ༼ つ ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡° ༽つ Here's a special emoji, just for you. Thanks for all the awesome support you've given me!

 **Aqua468:** Aw thanks! That was a really wonderful way to put it :3 I hope you like this one too lol!

 **taco:** Short and sweet, I love it :D Thanks for the reviews J

 **HXH KiruGon fan:** Sorry that his weakness bothers you, lol! But hey, there was hope for the future in this chapter, right? Haha

 **Kasper The Friendly Ghost:** You give me joy as well by reviewing :D

 **NightmareHeartx:** Yeah, this story is meant to be a lot… _calmer_ than 14 lol. I feel like the fanfic community focuses way too much on romance and not enough on friendship (guilty as charged :P) So that's why I decided to focus on their super awesome, super adorable friendship. Thanks for the review!

 **JustBlossom:** Haha yeah, that's what happens when you combine Killua and my writing – snarkiness and sarcasm! The two best things in the world. (jk)

* * *

Again, sorry that took... almost three months. Hehehe... ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ ~ _me shamefully hiding behind a brick wall of shame_

I'm not sure when I'll be posting chapter 4, since I'll be pretty busy for the next few months. Just remember, even if I don't post for five months, that doesn't mean I've abandoned the story. Just cross your fingers it won't take me 5 months XD


	4. Masquerade

Hello there. ∠( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° 」∠)＿

It feels like I'm starting a new story since it's been like 8 MONTHS

So my sorry-present to you is **an extra thousand words!** Huzzah! Actually, this is a problem for me cuz the word count in the rest of the chapters is in the low 4,000's and this one is over 5,000. I'm OCD okay ⁽⁽(ཀ д ཀ)⁾⁾

EDIT ON LAST CHAPTER: Okay, I was obviously really tired while writing the beginning of chapter 3, because I said "Game of Thrones _novel._ " *smacks face with a rake* I would edit that with the _actual_ title of the book series, but that document was deleted off my fanfic account and I can't find the original anywhere else, so… yeah.

Also, I realized that somehow, Killua knew Phinks' name before even meeting him.

*breaks out into song*

 _But I'm only human  
And I bleed when I fall down  
I'm only human  
And I crash and I break down*_

 **Disclaimer:** #prayfortogashi

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Masquerade**

 **Masquerade - a way of appearing or behaving that is not true or real**

* * *

 **D:**

The second Monday of the school year is by far the most terrifying, nauseating, anxiety-inducing day of the year. Why? Because today is the first day of Major classes.

It's also the first day I'm alone.

Gon and I didn't even meet up this morning, likely because he'd been eagerly waiting in the gym for class to start since 7:00 in the morning.

Me on the other hand...

 _Riiiiiiing!_

... Aaaand I slide into an empty desk in the back of _sensei_ 's class.

I shouldn't be surprised by this, but Wing-sensei's still reading whatever 800 page epic fantasy novel it is that happens to be far more interesting than his own career. I guess rushing to class wasn't necessary.

Minutes inch by. So far the class has been silent, but now murmurs and whispers undulate like waves among the 20-odd students scattered around the room.

So, I observe.

On the left side of the room, there's a mismatched group of maybe ten people, all looking like they'd rather be out by the dumpsters smoking something highly illegal than sitting in a geeked-out classroom with nothing to do. I make a mental note to avoid those guys.

On the right side is a weird arrangement, almost like a circle or a diamond of really weird looking kids, seemingly surrounding some straight-faced dude with a turtle shell beanie and green-striped scarf. The others must be his posse. And considering how a few of them are watching him with stars in their eyes, he's probably worshipped, without caring or maybe even noticing.

In the back of the room, it's just me and one other kid. He's a lot shorter than me and obnoxiously fidgety, so it's safe to assume he's a first-year like me.

Basically, of all the kids in the class, I can count on no one to be my crutch.

I sigh. This is going to be a long school year.

Suddenly, Wing-sensei slams his book shut, analyzing us behind his wire-rim specs. He seems to approve, because he puts his book down and smiles amiably.

"Welcome to Theoretical Sciences, class. I hope we can make this semester a good one." He adjusts his glasses. "Now, onto the roll."

 **(╯•﹏•╰)**

Theoretical Sciences is less of a class and more of a fanboy hour for Wing-sensei. We'll be covering topics such as quantum physics, time travel, and nen.** I've learned my fair share about all this stuff from sci-fi flicks and reddit***, so this class should be a breeze. Normally, I'd just zone out, but something about Wing's tone kept me hooked to the discussion for the entire hour.

Still, I'm out of the room the instant the bell rings.

... Flanked by the small kid. His name is Sushi, I think.

"Wing-sensei sure knows a lot." He says cheerfully, the anxiety he felt in the classroom clearly dispersed now that he's in the "safety" of the wide hallways of Hunter Academy. If only.

"It's nothing to brag about." I say, feeling a little arrogant. "There isn't a single thing he's teaching this year that I haven't already learned myself."

"Then... Are you not a sophomore?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He stammers. "I... I just t- thought you looked my age. Everyone else in the class is older, so I..."

I glance at him as he plays with his backpack strap awkwardly. "You what?" I prompt.

"... I thought we could be friends."

It's silent for a long moment.

"(ó_ò｡)"

"Oh." I finally manage. "Uh... Sure."

Little does he know that the thought of having another friend sends morphine-like relief through my veins. But my response is good enough for him, because he grins at me.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Don't you worry, Killua. I won't let you down! ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔᕤ" He balls his fists and steadies himself like he's ready to strike anyone who tries to touch me.

He ends up doing just that.

"Hey Killu - aghhh..."

(งಠ_ಠ)ᓄ )ﾟﾉ □ﾟ)ﾉ

Gon hunches over, holding his side where I'm sure Sushi just knocked his pancreas out of his abdomen.

This "getting hurt" thing seems to be a trend.

"Gon, are... you alright...?"

"Of course. ༼ ಥ_لಥ ༽ (ᵘgᵍʰ)" He wheezes, straightening up immediately. He plays it off like nothing happened. Or maybe his alleged six-pack absorbed the brunt of the blow. Do abs even work like that?

Gon takes in my new bodyguard's appearance. He's five feet of hidden brawn with skin even tanner than Gon's, short prickly hair and eyebrows as thick as hot dogs. Despite his height, he might've looked like a threat if not for his enormous hazel eyes.

Gon, chipper as always, sticks his hand out. "I'm Gon."

Sushi returns the greeting. "Zushi."

Oh.

"Killua and I just became friends." Zushi says.

"Then that makes us friends too!" Gon gives him the thumbs up. "s( ^ ‿ ^)-b Right, Killua?"

"Sure."

Zushi eyes Gon for a moment before his eyes widen. With a gasp and over-dramatic pointing of the finger, he says, "Aren't you the 9.7 kid?!"

Gon rubs the back of his neck. "That's me."

I don't know what kind of life Zushi lives, but I can tell he has two problems: extreme loyalty and unbridled respect. He puts his hands together and bows. "I am honored to be in your presence."

"Don't be." Gon says, which surprises me. This is the first time I've seen him act so sheepishly modest. "It's really not a big deal."

" _Not a big deal?_ You're only the second sophomore to beat 10 seconds during trials in this school's history!"

Gon murmurs, "How old is this school?"

"27 years." I whisper back.

"So who was the first?"

"Ging Freecss." A new voice says.

The three of us turn to see the principal approaching. He's still wearing those funky sandals.

"Principal Netero... （＊;〇□〇）…！" Zushi scrambles to bow, even lower this time than he had for Gon, shouting something like, " _Osu!_ "

"Zushi, was it?" The old man says.

"‷̗ↂ凸ↂ‴̖ " He bows again. "Yes, sir!"

"Hohohoho... No need for that!" Netero chuckles. "And let's see... Gon and Killua, right?"

"How do you know our names?" I ask. I'm a skeptical person, okay? Besides. I'm pretty sure when the principal knows your name, it isn't a good sign.

He chuckles again, the kind of old man chuckle that irks me to no end. "I know everyone at my school. After all, it's my duty to transform you all into worthy Hunters."

"That's just a dumb mascot." I grumble. "It doesn't mean anything once we graduate."

Netero just shrugs with an unsettling smile, obviously not going to elaborate on what he meant. I have to remind myself that I don't care.

"I stopped to talk to you for a reason." Netero says. "Gon, could you come with me to my office? It'll only take a moment."

Gon makes no move to follow. "It's about Ging, isn't it?"

"Yes and no." He says. "But I think you'll want this conversation to be private." He turns toward his office, not waiting for Gon to follow.

But he does. And he doesn't even say good-bye.

Zushi scratches his head. "What was that all about?"

Honestly, I don't know. And at this point, I'm not so sure Gon is going to tell me about it.

But right now, that doesn't matter.

Because the warning bell just rang.

 **!ヾ(▼皿▼ﾒ)┌θ (ﾉ □ )ﾉ ﾟ ﾟ**

Lunch couldn't have come soon enough. I thought I knew what I signed up for, but apparently with General Ed, the staff picks your elective classes.

Theoretical Sciences, Current Events, and Painting. And after lunch, Fashion & Textile Design. No wonder Misfits end up stuffed in lockers.

During the school-wide announcements after second period, perky Maia the senior president announces that there's a Halloween dance in the middle of October. The good news is non-existent. I could write a 10-page report on the bad. But to simplify the matter, I've made a list of the main, heinous points.

You come with friends or a date. No masks allowed. No leaving the gym. And… it's required.

H.A. has something called "Participation Points." In an attempt to get the students more involved, they require you to earn 10 Points per term. The dance is five Points.

I exhale all the air out of my lungs.

While the suffering makes me anticipate an hour of complete freedom, the sight of the Spiders in the quad reminds my queasy stomach that school - or at least, Hunter Academy - is _never_ freeing.

Before they can spot me, I pivot and practically run down the hallway I just exited.

A few minutes later, I get a text from Gon.

 _Where are you?_

Something about his text immediately strikes me as odd: he didn't include an emoji.

Now, I should be thankful for that. Teenage boys shouldn't be using so many smiley faces and flowers in their conversations. But this is _Gon_ , the definition of uncanny. So a missing emoji is actually a point of concern.

 _400s_ , I type back, wondering if I should've also asked if he was okay.

But maybe that would've been pointless, because when he meets up with me, he's grinning his normal, shining smile.

"My aunt was making cookies last night, but she accidentally added too much salt." He digs around in his backpack. "So she doubled the batch and gave me like, 40 cookies to share at school." He pulls out a ziploc bag with a single, double-chocolate fudge cookie in it. "I saved you one."

I snatch the bag from him and down it before he can even blink. "I can't believe you ate the rest all by yourself." I swallow. "Selfish."

Gon laughs. "I didn't eat them! The other sprinters did. Besides, I don't really like chocolate."

"You did not just say that."

"It's too sweet."

"'Too sweet' isn't materially possible. Too salty on the other hand, that's a real problem."

"You're pretty salty, Killua."

I flick his forehead. "You're weird."

He pouts a little before pulling out his lunch and binder. "Look at this." He holds up a packet of paper, probably an inch thick. "These are all the notes I'll need for Geometry this semester." He shakes it a little to emphasize the daunting task he has ahead of him.

I did tell him I was decent at math. But then I remind myself that I've never taken a college prep math class, and that's all H.A. offers. So I guess we'll fail together.

 **⎧ᴿᴵᴾ⎫**

It's hard to say good-bye to Gon today. While he's off lifting weights with his brawny buddies, I'll be sewing tutu's with a bunch of…

I gulp.

 _…_ _girls._

I think I'd rather be in a class with the Spiders.

And as luck would have it, my wish is granted.

"Hey, it's that one kid." Machi picks me out immediately. She's leaning back in her chair, fingering a finely sharpened sewing needle.

Well, at least it wasn't the gorilla of the bunch.

Her table partner, a short guy dressed in black looks past her to get a good look at me. "Is that the kid Uvo keeps saying he wants to slaughter?"

"Yeah."

That's awfully reassuring.

I start to slide away towards my usual spot in any classroom setting – the back corner – but Machi snaps her fingers to get my attention. "Kid. Are you a Fashion and Beauty major?"

"U – um…" Frankly, the last person I need knowing that I'm a Misfit is a Spider. So for the sake of cautionary protection, I'm a Fashion and Beauty major. "Yes."

Even though I can't see his mouth, I can tell the goth guy is holding back a laugh – his eyes betray him.

Machi elbows him. "Don't be a hypocrite, Feitan."

"Uvo would love to hear this."

Oh, great. It seems I've met yet another Spider. How big is their gang anyway?

"Do you need something?" Machi deadpans, arms crossed. I realize I'd been frozen in place, staring at them like a brainless idiot. I quickly shake my head, tripping over to an empty table.

If my luck doesn't run out, I won't have to have a table partner. Who'd want to sit by a snotty dork anyway?

Apparently Pigtails does.

A short blonde girl, probably my age (if that), slides into the empty chair next to me. At first, all that runs through my mind is an escape plan, but then I realize there's a reason she chose to sit next to me: all the other seats are taken.

I manage to keep a cool façade. Just barely.

The teacher, a child-sized woman with more make up on than a clown enters the room. Her professional name is "Cutie Beauty." (Just another sign to me that I have to transfer out of this class as soon as humanly possible.)

Class starts, and so far, Pigtails hasn't so much as looked at me. This is a good sign.

But then Beauty decides that we should get to know our table partners. Apparently knowing things like their favorite breakfast food and the color of their toothbrush will significantly improve our teamwork this semester.

That's right. Teamwork.

Meaning – I have to talk with, work with, and _cooperate_ with this girl for the next four months.

I keep my eyes staring straight at the date in the corner of the whiteboard for the next minute. Everyone around us is already deep in small talk. I'm just waiting for Pigtails to make the first move.

Two minutes pass. Then three, four, five.

I can't take it anymore. I spare her a glance.

"Well that took long enough." She frowns a little, and for the first time since laying eyes on her, I notice that her irises are actually pink – the same pink as her poofy dress. I think it's safe to say she's wearing colored contacts.

I blink out of my thoughts. She's staring at me. Actually, now that I think about it, she's _been_ staring at me since the teacher put us up to this daunting task. Self-conscious, I sniff in whatever nasties are threatening to spill out my nose.

"Do you need a tissue?" She asks.

I start to talk but my throat is dry and scratchy. So I just shake my head.

"Suit yourself." She shrugs. "I'm Biscuit Krueger, by the way." She holds out a daintily gloved hand. "But for the sake of keeping this as casual as possible, you can call me Bisky."

Maybe it's a California thing, but some of the names I've heard so far a freakin weird. But I have to say, "Biscuit" takes the cake.

"Killua." I say and return the handshake, my skin barely grazing the fabric of her gloves. At least I'd like to have said that. Her grip is iron.

"Don't be so nervous." She says, taking on the tone of a strict old lady. "It's probably your first year here, but there's nothing to worry about. You'll fit in just fine."

"Um... Are you implying that you aren't a sophomore?"

Flashback to the conversation with Zushi this morning. Only, I'm not going to ask "Bisky" here to be my new best friend.

"I'm a senior."

I give her the elevator eyes. Short, thin, dresses like she's in the fourth grade - it's too much to believe. I guess the filter I installed is faulty because words tumble out of my mouth before my brain can even evaluate them. "You're an old hag!"

Remember her iron grip? Well, she packs steely punch. I'd be shocked if my entire arm doesn't turn purple.

"What was that for?" I yell, forgetting that there are other normal people in the room.

"I'm only 17! In everyone else's book, 17 is young and youthful!"

"You look like a little kid!"

"And _you_ look like a snotty brat!" She crosses her arms, pointing her nose the other way.

I do the only thing I know how to do: mirror her actions. So I cross my arms (more like cradle my useless arm) and glare at the opposite wall.

It takes a moment before I suffer from my daily dose of humiliation.

"Bravo!" Beauty stands on a chair, clapping like we just won a Golden Globe for our performance. I swear she even wipes a tear away. "That is exactly what I look for in a promising pair - tension!"

Yeah there's a lot of tension: in my blood. I think my skin color's permanently changed from sickly white to cherry red.

"Success is born of passion; raw, burning emotion! Tension is pressure! Pressure spurs hidden bouts of creativity!" She hops off her chair and struts over to us. "What I see in the two of you is promise. I can see the fire in your hearts. With just a bit of kindle and a spark - " She grabs our hands. "You'll be a bonfire."

Bisky and I exchange a glance. As much as I hate my table partner already, I can tell we agree on at least this: our textile design instructor is a nutcase.

"It was fate that you two sat next to each other. You're the perfect team!"

We also strongly disagree with her analysis.

"Miss Beauty," Bisky says, clasping her hands together. "You're so flattering! ✿"

I scowl. Traitor.

"I couldn't ask for a better professor." She sings. "We'll owe our success to you! ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )"

Beauty makes a heart with her fingers before moving back to the front of the classroom. I shoot Bisky a glance of antipathy. She chuckles like the spawn of Satan behind her hand.

Class resumes after that horrific episode, but there's no way I can relax. Bisky isn't the problem anymore - it's the other students, the ones who keep sneaking looks back at us every two seconds. Please, move one people. Nothing to see here.

Beauty rambles about the importance of the fashion industry for the next forty-five minutes. I know because my eyes are trained on the clock the entire time. The sound of the final bell is like magic.

I'm out.

 **❀∋━━o(｀∀´oメ）～→ / (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧**

One of these days, I'll learn that trying to avoid people never works. At least, at a school as unconventional as H.A., it doesn't.

"Killua!" The blonde witch calls out for the entire academy to hear, chasing after me all the way to the front parking lot.

I can't take it anymore. I whip around, knuckles clenched tight. "What do you want?"

She stops, not even out of breath after running across campus and pushing through crowds of people twice her size. What kind of mystical being is she?

"I just want you to know that I'm taking this class very seriously. It's part of my major. So you better not mess this up for me." She gets in my face (or rather, _tries_ to) by standing on her tiptoes. Her finger jabs my chest. "I'll make you regret it."

She pulls back, her signature feigned-innocent smile on her face. She waves, twirling to bounce in the other direction. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Killua!ヾ(ˆ∇ˆ)ﾉﾞ "

My head hurts. So does my arm. And yes, there's a purple patch covering about half of my bicep.

By now I'm sure the entire school knows my face. In my dreams, that was supposed to be a good thing. But popularity due to complete loser-ness isn't what I imagined, as shocking as that may sound. I duck my head like a turtle as I walk.

Mom's in her usual spot, scrolling through "health foods" on Pinterest. They should re-label that pin "dinner ideas for when you want to off your children." I let out a breath. Good thing she wasn't looking out the window.

"There you are, Killu!" Mom whips her head up to smile like a freaky clown as soon as I open the door. She waits 'til I'm in, the door is closed, and I have my seatbelt on.

"So who was that girl?"

Safety before gossip.

"What girl?" I mumble.

"You know who I'm talking about!" She says. "I saw her. She's a cutie."

"I only saw a devil in a dress." I grumble, not meeting her sunglassed scrutiny.

She puts the car in drive. It's a silent ride for the first few minutes. And hey, I'm immensely grateful for that.

But then...

"You should ask her out on a date."

"MOM!"

 **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⌐■-■**

Hunter Academy takes pride in "keeping up with the times." They have an account on pretty much every social media site and app in existence. You know what that means. Parents – or in my case, nosy brothers – always find out about the events you never planned on bringing up.

"Mother." Illumi says at dinner, breaking the characteristic silence at the table. "I learned something very interesting about Killu's school today."

I stand so fast I hit my knee on the table. "May I be excused?"

"Eat your vegetables, Killu!" Mom says.

Reluctant, I plop back down. She can make me sit, but she absolutely cannot make me eat brussel sprouts.

"What I read on the Twitter," Illumi says – and yes, he did say ' _the_ Twitter', "was that Hunter Academy is having a dance in October."

"A dance?" Mom cries out. "Killu, why didn't you tell me?!"

"Do you really need an explanation?"

"This is the moment I've been waiting for!" She stands, pacing around the table. "None of my other sons ever went to dances, but that mistake won't be made again. I've already got a tuxedo picked out for you, just in case a moment like this ever came. Oh! And I'll need to hire some photographers and call a limousine service and – "

"Mom!" I shout. "I'm not going to the stupid dance, and even if I were, I wouldn't want you to make a big deal out of it!"

She freezes in her tracks, cranking her neck to look me in the eye. "You… what?"

I cross my arms. "You heard me. I'm not going."

"B- but – "

"Killu, I think you're mistaken." Illumi cuts in. "Vice Principal Hill specifically said that the dance was required for every student. It's part of your Participation Points."

Okay, the truth is, I was planning on going – only because it's required. But I wasn't going to go _with_ anyone, like on a date or something. They never said that part was required.

Mom comes behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders and shoving her face just inches away from mine. That way, when she starts screeching, she can really get the point across when spit flies all over my face.

Softly, she says, "You would make Mommy so happy if you went to that dance."

Sometimes, it surprises me that in that last fifteen years of my existence, Mom still hasn't picked up on the fact that I could care less about what she wants from me. She wants her favorite son to grow up and take over the family business? Sorry, but no. She wants her little boy to give her hugs and kisses every morning and night? I'd rather eat these green fiends on my plate. She wants me to go to a stupid Halloween dance?

"Fine." I make sure to add an over-dramatic groan. Can't have her thinking I'm doing this for her sake. "I'll go to the dumb dance. But – " I cut her short. "No pictures, no limousines, and _NO_ smothering."

She sniffles a little. "You're eyes are so cold now, Killu. You're growing up to be a fine young man!"

I slip out of her grasp before she can death-hug me. "Now may I be excused?"

Mom's so happy that she forgets I haven't so much as touched my brussel sprouts. She just nods as tears spill out her eyes.

See the kind of family I live in? You'd want to run away from home, too.

I suddenly trip on something small. It's my youngest brother, Kalluto. I seem to always forget he exists.

"Sorry." I say before dashing past him to the safety of my room. I go through the double doors and lock them in one swift, desperate movement. Not that a lock would do much good. I'm pretty sure anyone in this family who wanted to break in could, each in their own, twisted way.

I take a good look at my room. Our old house was pretty snazzy, but it's just a puny apartment compared to what we live in now. Just my bedroom is in size comparable to a couple classrooms put together – not to mention the ceiling is three floors high.

Lining one wall are built-in stone bookcases. I have an enormous collection of books, video games, and DVDs. The wall opposite is actually floor to ceiling windows. I'm sure the view outside is great, but I've kept the curtains closed at all times since we moved in.

The adjacent wall is where my flat screen and shelves of video game consoles are. Opposite that is my bed. Of course I'm the only one who sleeps on it, but I bet about four adults could share it and still have breathing room.

To top it all off, I have a bathroom and closet that would put the average master suite to shame. Marble floors, diamond knobs, 12-inch rain shower head – just to name a few things.

Now you may be thinking all the Zoldyck children are treated equally. Not the case. The only other child with a somewhat-luxurious living space is my older brother, Illumi – and that's only because my parents believe he "earned" it. Sucking up for more than twenty years really pays off.

But anyway, the question that may be forming in your head is why I, the middle child, get the special treatment. Well, it's like I've said before: I'm supposed to inherit the family wealth, status, and mysterious business all because my hair is freaking white.

To think there are people out there who don't consider my family to be a band of hopeless nutcases…

I wait a moment, debating on what I should do with my evening when a now-familiar buzz vibrates my leg. It's a text.

But this one isn't from Gon.

 _Hi Killua! I saw Gon after school and he gave me your number. Is that okay? I don't want to seem like a stalker D:_

I read it over a few times, trying to figure out who the heck it is. A second text ends that mystery.

 _Oh by the way, this is Zushi_

 _From Theoretical Sciences_

 _._._

Zushi's emojis are not nearly as cool as Gon's. And that's saying something 'cause Gon's can be pretty tacky at times.

I'm not sure what to say.

 _ok_

Good enough.

I end up laying on my bed, staring at the cold chandelier hanging menacingly above me. It's a brass candelabra. It adds to the creepy effect this room – or the entire house – has. It's more of an above-ground dungeon than anything else.

But to me, it's relaxing. Tranquilizing. I prefer the desolate dark.

It lulls me to sleep.

* * *

Next time, on **Misfits:**

 **Incommodious - uncomfortably or inconveniently small**

* * *

The Usual Notes That No One Reads But I Feel The Need To Write Down Anyway:

*Human by Christina Perri. Great song. But have you heard Human by Krewella? Bomb.

**Yes, nen. Now, I know I said there would be no nen in this story but guess what. People lie.

.

.

.

(๏ᆺ๏υ)

But also it's not _real_ nen. It's more of a theoretical concept… which… you probably picked up on already… since it's talked about in a… theoretical… sciences class…

ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ(ノ；Д；)ノ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀

***Reddit. No explanation necessary? P.S. I don't own it.

* * *

I probably already replied to a lot of you but that would've been months ago. I barely remember what I ate for breakfast, so there is absolutely no way I'll remember who I replied to back in like, February. I'm sure you don't mind though :3

 **VitameatavegaminGirl:** Thanks for the support! It took my three-quarters of a year but yay I sort of put my life back together! (๑•̀ㅂ•')و✧

 **Phoenix-Thunder:** _This_ Killua is practically my SI character lol except contacts don't make me feel cooler XD So we'll see how/if contacts change anything for the HxH fandom's precious baby. I'll use magic or something. ༼(∩ ͡°╭͜ʖ╮͡ ͡°)༽⊃━ ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 **Aqua468:** Stop it (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ your review was enjoyed more :3

 **Laurentia60:** Aw, thanks!(❛ั◡˜๑) Loving that adorable emoji too!

 **Guest:** omagoodness, I love that word! I'd never heard it before you suggested it. Know that I _will_ use it in the future, 100%.Ⓣⓗⓐⓝⓚ｡:.ﾟヽ(｡ ౪ ⊙ )ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ Ⓨⓞⓤ

 **K1lluaa:** Bingo, you're spot on! Lol I literally haven't planned anything for this story. I just take it one chapter at a time. Thanks so much and don't worry, you're English is perfect! ( ˘ ³˘)

 **Melissa the kawaii yandere:** I haven't listened to that version! *moseys on over to youtube* Thanks for the follow and fav! (( ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ))

 **KiGaMin:** You're the sweetest! I'm all for mirrored-canon AUs. They're just exciting idk haha cuz you're like, "Hey! That makes sense!" Or at least, that's what I do XD Thanks for the review ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

 **Girls In White Dresses:** Hello again XDXD I feel like there's not much to add here since we PM so much! Here's a reminder of how much I love your reviews: ": .• ✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

* * *

Okay so a super quick note about Bisky: NO SHE AND KILLUA WILL NOT BE A COUPLE! NO

Lawl cya'll in April 2017. Boketto-muffin OUT. |-/

(jk I'll try to update at a more reasonable pace)


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